


Be Gentle With Me

by foggys_cupcake_girl, redreaper86



Series: farrelldano stuff [4]
Category: Actor RPF
Genre: (maybe a lil too hard shh), Bad BDSM Etiquette, Belly Kink, Colin RLLY needs a hug you guys, Colin has three exes we talk about in this fic, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub fluff, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, Feeding Kink, Fluff and Angst, Food Sex, Gaslighting, Hurt No Comfort, Jared Leto is a sweetheart, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Misunderstandings, NOT Nicole Narin friendly, Nicole Narin is a walking trigger warning, No Aftercare, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Size Difference, Subspace, Tickling, True Love, Undernegotiated Kink, Vomiting, Warnings for chapter 4, actually two exes and one parasite, and THEN actual hurt/comfort, because Paul Dano is an angel, but he also is kind of a dumbass, but like at least they try, either way Colin and Paul are endgame, get ready for a feels trip y'all..., implied eating disorders, not SUPER Ezra or Jared friendly either tbh, pls forgive him he doesn't Get It, which may be the understatement of the century
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/redreaper86/pseuds/redreaper86
Summary: Paul isn't the only partner Colin ever told about his feeding fetish...just the only one he didn'timmensely regrettelling.
Relationships: Colin Farell/Nicole Narin, Colin Farrell/Ezra Miller, Colin Farrell/Jared Leto, Paul Dano/Colin Farrell
Series: farrelldano stuff [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061561
Comments: 10
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as he walks in the door of the hotel suite he is staying in during his final days of shooting The Batman, Paul reflects once more how fortunate he is not only to have someone, but to have such an absolutely amazing person as Colin to share his quarantine bubble with. If it hadn’t been for Colin, Paul knew he surely would’ve gone mad -- being alone for over a year, alternately filming and quarantining.

He can smell the sweetly spicy scent of BBQ sauce even through his cloth face mask, which he pulls off as soon as the door closes behind him. Sizzling and metallic clattering can be heard from the kitchen and Paul can help but smile fondly. Colin is making kebabs again. That’s the third time this week, not that Paul’s complaining at all.

“Colin, I’m home,” Paul calls from the landing.

Colin comes around the corner, his handsome face lighting up with his signature megawatt smile -- Paul’s heart physically hurts with love when he sees it. It makes all of this worth it.

“How was your day?” Colin asks sweetly, helping Paul out of his coat.

This time Paul can’t hide his smile. “You’re so cute when you get all mother-hen on me,” he says, winding his arms around Colin’s neck, kneading devilish fingertips into the soft bristles of Colin’s scalp where his hair is just starting to grow back -- completely silver this time. Colin tips his head back into Paul’s touch, moaning contentedly. Paul loves it -- loves that Colin is his now, this gorgeous, kind, gentle man who was there for him when he desperately needed someone to just…be there for him. Especially during those lonely depressing days of the very first Covid lockdown.

Little did Paul know at the time, that fateful day back in October of last year when he’d broken down in Colin’s arms when he just couldn’t go on being so alone anymore, that Colin was going to end up being such an integral part of his life, heart and sanity. Little did Paul know he was going to fall for Colin so fast and so hard. And little did he know that Colin would feel exactly the same way, but he did.

Oh boy did he.

“Hey,” Colin says mock-sternly, running his hands up Paul’s sides -- Paul shivers at the gentle possessiveness of the action, “First of all, I prefer the term ‘mother-penguin,’” -- (Paul snorts) -- “second of all,” Colin raises his eyebrows meaningfully, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“Uhm…” Paul closes his tired eyes. Crap, crap, crap. “What question?” he asks, and tries so hard not to smile as Colin’s beautiful brown eyes go comically wide.

“Do you listen to a word I say?” Colin exclaims in faux-outrage. “Bleeding _rude_ , mate.”

He looks so adorably put out that Paul can’t help but laugh at him which only makes Colin resemble a reproachful puppy all the more.

“I’m sorry!” Paul gasps when he can breathe again, “I do listen to you, I do. ”

“Oh, really, then what was my question?” Colin demands.

“I…” Paul tries to remember but with the awful day he’s had, coupled with the feeling of euphoria of being with Colin again, just makes him come up short all the more. He shakes his head in despair, suppressing another smirk as Colin playfully bristles at him.

“I don’t know what happened, baby,” Paul says, biting his lip in an effort to keep a straight face as Colin pouts. “I just got lost in your beautiful eyes…and pfft…” he makes a gesture of waving his hand away from his temple, like his mind has just been blown.

“Oh, right, so it’s my fault, then,” Colin grins, slowly backing Paul up to their favourite black leather couch (where much cuddling and other significantly less innocent activities had occurred since they first moved in together).

“Mm-mm, all your fault,” Paul continues to allow to Colin gently crowd him so that Paul needs must keep retreating. “You’re so pretty, you drive me to distraction. Can’t keep a straight thought in my head when I see you. Or a gay thought, for that matter. I am officially thought-free when I gaze upon your peerless beauty.”

Colin snorts. “Flattery won’t save you now, sweetheart,” he says, his tone darkly playful and Paul’s insides are invaded by a swarm of butterflies.

“I’m in so much trouble, aren’t I?” Paul says, batting his eyelashes hopefully.

He squeals as in one fluid motion Colin seizes him by the waist and lays him gently down on his back on the couch. Then, straddling Paul’s thighs -- the younger man feels his heart skip a beat as he is pinned under Colin’s soft weight, and again as Colin takes the ends of Paul’s long sleeves and stuffs them down the crack of the couch, effectively restraining the latter’s arms.

“ _So_ much trouble,” Colin teases, nuzzling his nose against Paul’s, “You need to be punished, I think.”

Paul gasps as Colin runs his hands down his arms and presses a kiss onto his mouth. Just as Paul is really getting into the kiss, Colin scrabbles his blunt nails down the younger man’s upper arms to his armpits. Paul gives a muffled squeal through Colin’s locked lips and squirms as well as he can manage under the other man’s weight. Finally the teasing torture becomes too much and Paul breaks the kiss by turning his burning face away, giggling.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Colin teases, chasing Paul’s mouth with his own, wriggling his fingers into the younger man’s upper ribs.

Paul squawks and bucks. Colin just scrabbles his hands down Paul’s ribcage, eliciting much involuntary writhing and cackling from his victim.

“Oh, you think you can escape me, do ya?” Colin hisses in Paul’s ear, as he drills all ten fingertips into the spaces between Paul’s ribs, both they and his hot breath tickling the latter dreadfully. The younger man is caught in a silent laugh and can barely even squirm properly. Colin, bless him, slows from rough scrunching to gentle scribbling, gradually working his way down to Paul’s soft sides. “Do you remember my question now, little one?”

Paul gulps precious oxygen, just barely able to breathe, let alone form coherent sentences, but in an epiphany nothing short of miraculous, the answer has come to him. “Ye-hes!”

“So, what was it?” Colin asks sweetly, tapping his fingertips impatiently on Paul’s waist, causing little electric shocks to zap through the latter’s insides with every touch. “Hm?”

“You asked me -- _fu-huck_!” Paul cackles as Colin begins mercilessly scratching his nails all over Paul’s heaving belly -- the thin shirt the latter is wearing doing nothing to protect the sensitive flesh underneath.

“I asked you ‘fuck?’” Colin grins, tilting his head. “Doesn’t sound like me at all, mate. I, good Irish Catholic that I am, don’t use such foul language.”

The new wave of laughter that seizes Paul has nothing to do with being tickled and everything to do with Colin telling that outrageous lie in that ridiculously prissy tone of voice.

This time Paul is caught in a silent laugh for over thirty seconds before he can breathe again. As he gasps and giggles, he notices that Colin has stopped tickling him entirely and waits for Paul totally gets his breath back before he gently cups Paul’s face. Paul squeals and flinches, expecting the playful torment to begin anew.

“Hey now, shh…” Colin murmurs, wiping away Paul’s tears like he’s soothing a child who’s had a nightmare. “You take a while to come back down, huh, love?”

Paul nods weakly, an occasional giggly whimper escaping him. When Paul is being tickled like that, so intensely, he slips into a sort of euphoric frame of mind, where he just wants to be tickled into a little helpless ball of giggly goo. There is nothing better on earth than Colin gently tormenting him and teasing him in that soft Irish brogue of his, about how cute he is when he squirms, how pretty he is when he laughs, how silly he sounds when he begs. When he is in that floaty headspace, Paul completely looses all inhibitions or sense of embarrassment, something he has never done before. Never has he gone this deep into subspace, not until Colin.

“Just breathe, sweetheart,” Colin murmurs, peppering Paul’s face with feather-light kisses. “Just breathe.”

“You asked me how my day went,” Paul says, his voice still shaky. “That _is_ what you asked me, right?”

“That’s what I asked you, Paul, yes,” Colin’s tone couldn’t get more patronizing if it tried. “So. How did your day go?”

Paul bites his lip, thinking back to the events of the day. “I kind of don’t wanna tell you,” he blurts out bluntly.

But Colin thinks Paul is being bratty on purpose. “Oh, you don’t, don’t ya,” the Irishman says, his lovely smile twisting into something more mischievous. “Well, I have ways of making you tell me, you know.”

Paul feels every nerve in his body fire off at once. “How?”

Colin answered this by diving his head down and burying his face against Paul’s head, his sharply delicate features gently brushing against his victim’s ear and jawline. Paul moans and wriggles a little under Colin’s sturdy weight, but it is nothing doing. Colin is pinning Paul’s legs down with his own, his heavy chest pressing against Paul’s -- Paul can feel the beat of Colin’s heart against his own. Colin slips his hands under Paul’s shirt and the gasps as he feels large calloused fingers softly caress his belly, gently scratching, exploring.

The calm before the storm.

Paul panics and starts babbling:

“I had a very dull day at work, okay? You would be bored if I told you --” he breaks off with a yelp as Colin nips at his earlobe.

“I never asked to be entertained, did I,” Colin murmurs into Paul’s ear. “ _Did_ I?” He tweaks Paul’s sides and the younger man yelps.

“No, but…” Paul’s breath is coming quicker now, he know he is only staving off the inevitable, “Colin, please, I don’t…I don’t want…” Tears sparks his eyes and he feels his face go hot. “I don’t want you to be mad at me like this.”

Colin’s head pops back up. “‘Mad at you?’” he repeats, shaking his head incredulously. Paul, my love, why ever would you think I’m mad at you?”

Paul sniffs and blinks fast and to his horror feels a hot tear run down the side of his temple.

Colin’s brown eyes filled with compassion and he pulls Paul’s sleeves out of the crack of the couch, and swiftly massages feeling back into the latter’s hands. “You don’t have to talk about your day, sweetheart. It was just a question.”

“It’s just --” Paul winces, he hates stuff like this, telling tales out of school. But on the other hand, Colin is his boyfriend, so if he can’t tell him…who can he tell? Paul takes a deep shuddering breath: “Rob was really rough with me today. Like way-over-the-top rough. And I know that’s for his character, but --”

“He went Full Jared, did he?” Colin says, in a much grimmer tone than one usually says such phrases. It almost gets Paul to smile.

Almost.

“It was an Arkham scene,” Paul murmurs. “It didn’t help that we did about thirty takes. Or that I was in a straightjacket the entire time.”

“Bloody Matt,” Colin growls. “He’s gone insane.”

“He just wants it to be perfect,” Paul says, his exhaustion seeping into his very bones. “We’re so close to being done.”

“And in the meantime you are to be sparkle-boy’s chew toy?” Colin says, outraged, his Irish accent getting thicker the madder he gets. “How is that fair?”

Paul smiles at Colin’s less than flattering moniker for their dark and broody co-star. “At least I have you to come home to,” he places his hands on either side of Colin’s face, wondering if Colin would mind terribly if he squished the older man’s cheeks a little. “Rob’s all alone in his quarantine bubble.”

“Oh, yes, I don’t imagine those rumours about him and Zoe having sex on the hood of the Batmobile prop are helping his mood any.”

Paul’s eyes go wide as saucers.

Colin grins at the sight. “Oh, you didn’t hear about that?”

“Um, no?”

“ _Well_ ,” Colin says, readjusting his perch on the edge of the couch with all the relish of a gossipy schoolgirl. “I’ll tell you _everything_.”

And he does. Paul nearly asphyxiates with laughter as Colin tells the insalubrious story, and when he uses the tea-towel as a prop to mimic Zoe Kravitz (allegedly) whipping her bra around her head like some sort of ‘lingerie lasso’ (Colin’s impeccable phrasing again) as she was (allegedly) riding Robert Pattinson, Paul nearly passes out.

“So with everything Rob is going through, I won’t be surprised if he gets the role of the Joker too,” Colin finishes with no small amount of glee. “That boy’s got problems.”

“Ugh, sounds like it,” Paul splutters, wiping tears from his eyes. He is worn out from the day. “Thank you for the story, Colin.”

Colin preens at the praise. “Oh, you liked my story did, ya?”

Paul reaches up, cups Colin’s cheeks and this time he does squish them a little. “I loved your story, baby. Do you have any more?”

“So many more, little one,” Colin leans down, kisses Paul gently on the lips. “But first…you’re taking a bath.”

“Oh no, I’m _not_ ,” Paul proclaims.

Colin blinks at him in utter astonishment.

“And you can’t _make_ me, either.”

This time Colin catches on, a grin spreading across his pretty face as he waggles his fingers threateningly.

“Oh, can’t I?"


	2. Chapter 2

There’s nothing like a bath at the end of a long day, and being curled up in the tub with Paul is an extra-special treat. Colin has always had a bit of a  _ thing _ for cuddling his partners; he’s happiest when he’s got someone on his lap or snuggled up with their head on his shoulder, and Paul is just the right size and build for it. He’s slim but not lanky, nice and soft and just a  _ little _ taller, perfect when curled up into a snuggly tangle of arms and legs in Colin’s lap.

Colin nuzzles his face into Paul’s neck and kisses it a few times, drawing a delicious little giggle from his lover. “That tickles,” Paul says, as if he minds.

“Is that you asking me to do it again?” Colin teases, and flicks his tongue over what he knows to be a particularly sensitive spot on Paul’s neck.

Paul squirms a little, a tiny moan slipping out. “Ooh, not fair.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah, I do.” Paul turns his head to catch Colin’s mouth in a proper kiss. Colin responds in kind, sliding wet fingers through Paul’s shaggy hair and cupping the back of his head in a protective hold. “I love you,” Paul whispers against Colin’s lips when the kiss ends.

“Mmm. I love you too, sweetheart.” Colin gently guides Paul’s head to the crook of his neck and rubs Paul’s back in long, smooth strokes until he feels the younger man melt into his arms. “There, that’s so,” he murmurs as Paul relaxes. “How’s that feel?”

“Amazing,” Paul sighs, and the single word makes Colin’s heart sing. He trusts Paul. He  _ loves _ Paul. There’s absolutely nothing he can’t tell him, and he knows that, so…

Impulsively, he whispers in Paul’s ear, “You know, you aren’t the only person I’ve ever told about my little fetish. There were…three others, actually.”

Paul perks up a little. “Ooh. Is this story time?” he says teasingly.

“Yeah, sweetheart. This is your bedtime story,” Colin chuckles, lightly nipping Paul’s earlobe. Paul giggles again as he snuggles a little closer into Colin’s chest. “So. I mentioned Jared and I had a little thing when we filmed  _ Alexander…” _

“Yeah?” Paul pulls his face out of Colin’s shoulder and turns those big green eyes on him.

Colin sweeps a damp strand of hair out of Paul’s eyes. God, he loves this man. “Yeah. We weren’t together long, maybe a few months…” Colin hesitates. This doesn’t make him look too good; hooking up with a co-star while he had a girlfriend and newborn child at home. And he  _ was _ crushed to miss the birth of his son…he was just so lonely out there on set, and he was so tired of running and not being allowed to eat or drink what he wanted…one night fueled by sketchy Moroccan champagne and even sketchier Moroccan weed had led to things he couldn’t take back…he had thought, for a moment, that he might really be in love…

“Hey,” Paul says gently, reaching up and lightly stroking Colin’s shoulder. “You’re okay. It’s in the past now, and…y’know, you don’t have to tell me anything, right?”

Colin relaxes again. This is  _ Paul,  _ and he knows Paul won’t judge him. “So. Yeah. We were together a few months and I thought, well, why not let him in on the secret?”

“How’d it go?”

“Well…let’s just say I might never look at a can of whipped cream the same way again…”

~

“Okay, baby…” Jared finishes securing Colin’s wrists behind him with the handkerchief and squeezes his shoulder before coming around his chair and kneeling in front of him. “Wanna tell me that safeword one more time?”

“Persia,” Colin says obediently.

Jared nods and kisses Colin’s knee, and it’s utterly adorable. Colin tries not to giggle as Jared parts his knees and edges forward, lightly stroking the inside of his thighs with just his fingertips. Little tingles of pleasure run down Colin’s spine and he almost forgets why they’re doing this.

Last night while they were sharing a pitcher of margaritas, Colin blurted out his secret fetish to Jared, who seemed surprisingly into the idea of it.  _ Okay, baby, _ he’d said thoughtfully,  _ but that kind of stuff gets dirty, so I wanna do it right, okay? We gotta have, like, safewords and shit, ’specially if you want me to tie you up… _

Which has led them here: Jared’s kitchen table, Colin settled in a straight-back chair with his arms tied around the back, stripped down to a tiny pair of boxer briefs. He should feel extremely vulnerable right now…and he does, but he feels surprisingly relaxed even as the blood in his veins hums with anticipation. Being tied down and willingly helpless is exciting, but Colin knows Jared won’t hurt him.

(And it helps, perhaps, that he’s taken a Klonopin and washed it down with a glass of wine…just enough, at this moment, to take off the edge of whatever anxiety he  _ would _ be feeling if he hadn’t taken it…but Jared, who has old-fashioned ideas about it being wrong to day-drink, doesn’t need to know about that.)

Anyway, Colin hasn’t been allowed proper junk food in months, thanks to the strict  _ Alexander _ set rules, and has had to resort to sneaking pizza and cheap beer on nights out. So when he was led into the kitchen and saw whipped cream, bananas, sprinkles, and chocolate sauce laid out on the table, well, forgive him for getting a bit excited; perhaps it’s childish but he’s always had a soft spot for sweets.

Jared leans in and presses soft, teasing kisses down Colin’s neck, over his chest, down to his belly. “Mmm,” he hums as he reaches up and palms the soft flesh. “What’s this, babe? Got a little bit of chub-chub going here?” He pinches Colin’s belly and Colin can’t help but let out a little  _ mm! _ because it tickles, just a bit, and Jared laughs and flicks his tongue into Colin’s belly button. “Not as toned as you were in boot camp, huh?” he teases, and then, to Colin’s absolute delight, leans in and bites Colin’s stomach, a delicious firm bite that quickly turns to a sucking kiss.

Colin just about melts. So far so good. Jared isn’t mean, but he’s saying everything that Colin secretly wished he would and it only gets better when Jared, having finished leaving a hickey on Colin’s belly, looks up just in time to see how red Colin’s face has become. “Aww, don’t worry,” he coos earnestly. “I like you like this. All nice and soft.  _ Very _ sexy.” He pets the bite mark and then stands up, a devilish smirk playing over his lips, and adds, “Kinda wanna jerk off on your belly, actually.”

Colin has to fight to not roll his eyes.  _ It’s not about that, _ he wants to say, but then Jared picks up the canister of whipped cream and something flutters in Colin’s stomach. He wants this, God how he wants it, and he so appreciates how gentle Jared has been up to now, but just to be sure… “Can I ask—” he begins, and then breaks it off.

“Anything you want,” Jared assures him as he pops the top off the whipped cream canister. Colin would point out that he hasn’t even gotten the ice cream out of the freezer but, hey. He’s not going to complain; technically Jared is supposed to be “in charge” anyway.

“Well. Ah. Just don’t…” He winces a little; this sounds so childish. “Don’t call me fat, please. I mean—I liked the teasing just now, but just…don’t use that word, if you…if you don’t mind.”

To Colin’s immense relief, Jared takes him seriously. “Of course. And I really do like this, by the way,” he adds, reaching out to pat Colin’s belly. “A little bit of chubby looks good on you.” A mischievous grin steals over his face and he pinches Colin again once, twice, with light fingers and obvious intent to tickle. “And it makes it easier to do  _ that,” _ he concludes as Colin giggles and squirms.

This is good, Colin thinks excitedly. This is  _ right… _ this is going to  _ work… _

…and then Jared, in one smooth motion, shoves the nozzle of the whipped cream canister between his teeth and sprays it directly into his mouth. Colin sputters a little as he swallows, and Jared laughs. “Mmm, yeah. That’s how you’re gonna look in a minute when you’re choking on my dick,” he says playfully. “I’ll give you a  _ real _ mouthful too, cutie.”

Oh. Oh,  _ shit. _ Okay, so. Two things hit Colin hard at the same time: first of all, he and Jared  _ painfully obviously _ want different things out of this scene. Colin’s no nutritionist but he’s not dumb; he’s not going to get that “full” feeling from eating whipped cream out of a can, and Jared clearly doesn’t want to stuff him so much as he wants to, well,  _ stuff him. _ With something other than food.

And the second thing that hits him, with a real pang of disappointment, is that he is definitely not getting an ice-cream sundae tonight. No fair. He’d pout like a child if his mouth weren’t currently full of whipped cream. 

Jared grins wolfishly at him and proceeds to, and there’s only one way to phrase this, give him a lap dance. While smearing chocolate on Colin’s lips, and commanding him to lick it off. Colin does, biting back a heavy sigh. Jared grinds on his lap, smirking at him like he has a secret, and licks his own lips when Colin licks off the chocolate. “Mmm, baby. Wanna see what else you can do with that tongue.”

Colin winces. “Could we maybe—”

Jared cuts him off by aggressively thrusting against his stomach. Colin grunts a little and Jared groans, “Yeah, baby, take it…mmm, love that squishy body of yours…” He tweaks Colin’s nipples and Colin lets out an involuntary whimper. 

Jared proceeds to spray whipped cream on his own chest and make Colin lick it off (“ugh, baby, you look like you’re covered in my cum…your face is so messy, I love it!”), shove chocolate-covered fingers into Colin’s mouth (“ooh, yeah, suck it baby, show me what you can do with that tongue, just like that…”) and peel a banana, dip it in the chocolate sauce, and make Colin simulate oral on the banana (“oof, look at how deep you can take that thing, ready to see if you can take my cock that deep too?”).

It’s all about getting off. All about making it  _ sexy. _ Colin doesn’t want it to be  _ sexy. _ He wants it to be intimate. He wants a full, aching belly; wants Jared to hold him afterwards and kiss his swollen tummy and whisper  _ you did so good baby, let me take care of you now. _ He doesn’t want this stripper act, and he’s torn between laughing hysterically when Jared puts a piece of banana between his teeth and kisses Colin to make him eat it, and crying when Jared roughly grinds against his sadly empty belly.

Colin is a sweaty mess of chocolate by the time Jared sinks back to his knees and rips open Colin’s flimsy 3-for-a-pack Hanes briefs, looks up at him through lusty eyes, and proceeds to swallow him down in one gulp. Colin squawks in surprise, and Jared takes that as encouragement. He goes down on Colin hard and fast, and Colin definitely was not expecting this but it feels good and he almost can’t help but climax in Jared’s mouth with a cry of agonized pleasure…

…and that would be  _ fine, _ except then Jared spits out some of Colin’s seed into his hand and aims it at Colin’s already chocolate-smeared chest and no,  _ no, _ this is not sexy and Colin is  _ done. _ “Persia!” he yelps.

Jared stops and stares, blinking in obvious confusion. “Is that—oh. Oh, okay, shit, I’m sorry baby…” He grabs a paper towel and wipes off his hand, then quickly unties Colin. “What happened?” he asks, his eyes wide and concerned. He winces as he realizes aloud, “Shit. Cumplay is a hard limit, I guess? I should’ve asked first, fuck, I’m an idiot…”

“It’s fine.” To his utter humiliation, Colin feels his face getting hot and his eyes stinging. His stomach hurts, the phantom throb of a full belly that he’s quickly realizing he will not have. He’s not sure why he’s so upset; Jared hasn’t really done anything wrong. But he suddenly feels vulnerable and doesn’t want his boyfriend to see him cry, so he does the only sensible thing and flees to the bathroom like a girl ditched at the prom.

Alone, Colin sinks down to the edge of the tub and buries his face in his hands, tears leaking through his fingers within seconds.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid! _ He should have known better than to think Jared would understand. Jared is good and kind and not  _ her, _ but he’s too nice, too normal. He’d never understand.

Colin stands, roughly drying his eyes, and goes to the medicine cabinet. Nothing in here, of course, except herbal supplements, and he longs for his own well-stocked bathroom at home. Wishes he’d at least thought to grab his supply of benzos from his overnight bag before he locked himself in here, anyway; his head is pounding and suddenly the half-milligram of Klonopin doesn’t feel like nearly enough. He turns to the tiny closet and finds a bottle of mouthwash. Not exactly eighty-proof, but it’ll do. He takes a drink and promptly spits it out. Herbal, of course, and it tastes like a eucalyptus tree just puked into his mouth.

Moments of his last experience flash back to him, curled around the toilet with a sore throat and broken heart, and he chokes out a laugh. At least Jared tried, God damn it. Colin turns on the shower and then goes and leans over the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He looks awful. Red-rimmed weepy eyes, badly-ruffled blond hair, smears of chocolate down his chest that look almost like dried blood. He looks, and it almost makes him laugh, almost like the character he’s been playing for the last few months. “How we reach, we fall,” he murmurs mockingly at his reflection. “Oh, Hephaistion. I am nothing without you.”

As if on cue, Jared pounds on the door. “Colin! Fucking Christ, what is going on in there?”

“Nothing,” Colin protests, and winces as he realizes there is no way to not sound like he’s crying. “Let me just have a bleeding shower, Jared. Leave me alone.”

“Like fuck I’m leaving you alone! Are you  _ crying?” _ The doorknob rattles. “Colin, I swear to whatever’s above us, including the god damned pigeons, if you don’t let me in right now I’m going to break down the door.”

“It’s your house,” Colin points out.

“I don’t fuckin’  _ care, _ man!” Jared pounds again, rattles the doorknob. “Come on! Jesus fucking Christ, Colin,  _ get out here! _ Talk to me! Please,” and suddenly he sounds a little afraid, “please, just tell me what I did wrong, baby, I’ll fix it, okay?”

Colin just leans over the sink and lets the tears drip down his face. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this  _ alone. _ He’s a wreck, his heart is beating funny and his head is cloudy and he knows what that means but he can’t bring himself to admit it.  _ You’re a fucking monster, _ that angry voice in his head scolds him.  _ What, did you think you could run around doing drugs and cheating on your women without consequence? You think Kim doesn’t know who you are? She only barely tolerates you for the baby’s sake, if she knew about your secret little perversions she’d probably never let you lay eyes on James again, you useless drunk bastard… _

Jared chooses that moment to make good on his promise. The door flies open and smacks against the wall, putting a dent in the drywall, and Jared barrels in with a look of raw determination on his pretty face…which is made somewhat less effective when he overshoots and crashes into the shower. He grabs the shower curtain to steady himself, but pulls it down with him instead. It wraps around him as he goes down and Colin can only stare as Jared sputters indignantly and tries to break free, water beating down on the curtain and plastering Jared’s hair to his head. 

Colin can’t help but laugh through his tears as Jared tries to wriggle free of the shower curtain. “Jared? What exactly are you doing down there, love?” he asks, trying not to giggle too hard.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, help me,” Jared groans, ineffectually trying to untangle himself from the shower curtain.

Colin comes to his senses and shuts off the water, then carefully peels off the shower curtain and helps Jared out of the tub, giggling intermittently the whole time. “Sorry, mate,” he says with a little sheepish chuckle. “Didn’t expect you to go full Hephaistion on me.”

“My beloved Alexander,” Jared says dryly, looking the opposite of amused, and Colin can’t help it, another rush of giddy laughter escapes. Jared sighs heavily, but softens visibly as he says, “It’s worth making a total dumbass of myself to see you smiling again, baby. Now, are you going to tell me how I fucked up, or should I start taking wild-ass guesses?”

Colin’s smile evaporates. “You didn’t. I just…I just got upset, is all.”

Jared’s icicle-colored eyes narrow. “Have you been drinking today? Already? Colin, it’s not even three yet,” he scolds Colin gently. “No wonder you’re so all over the place, you  _ know _ alcohol makes you emotional…”

Colin reflects as Jared leads him back to the bedroom to get dressed that he’s  _ always _ emotional, drinking just makes it harder for him to hide it. But that doesn’t matter. Right now it’s just splitting hairs. Anyway, at any rate this ended better than last time, he thinks. At least Jared didn’t  _ hurt _ him.

The very next day, while Jared is at an audition, a bouquet of flower-shaped iced cookies arrives with Colin’s name on the tag. The card reads  _ I’m so sorry baby, please forgive me. _ Colin blushes when he sees it. To be apologized to with flowers (cookie flowers, no less) like a fussy teenage girlfriend is a little embarrassing, but it puts butterflies in his belly anyway. Jared is just so  _ sweet. _

Even sweeter is when Jared comes home from the audition, curls up on the couch with Colin, and presents him with a delicate little red box. Inside is the ring that Hephaistion gave Alexander on his wedding night, and Colin melts when he sees it. “I got you a present,” Jared says, a little smugly. “Did I do good, baby?”

“Yeah.” Colin snuggles up to Jared and tries not to think about how badly it would go if he asked Jared to hand-feed him one of those pretty flower cookies. “Yeah, this time you did real good, love. Couldn’t ask for anything more.”

~

“Can I just ask,” Paul says tentatively as Colin finishes, “how come you never tried again with him? I mean it seems like he would’ve listened…”

Colin hears loud and clear what Paul is asking.  _ Why didn’t you two make it? What do I have that he doesn’t, and how do I keep it up? _ He heaves a soft sigh and squeezes Paul close as he explains, “Well, the thing is, I don’t think he really loved me. Not like that, anyway.”

“Sounds like he did,” Paul says, in a tone just a shade too cool and light to be natural.

“Not really.” Colin bites his lip, wondering how pathetic he wants to allow himself to be, and finally confesses, “He started something with me on set to get into Hephaistion’s head better. Over time, it spiraled from method acting to what he swore blind was real affection. But of course once I found out, well. I was a little oversensitive, I’m afraid, and I sent him packing.”

“That’s not oversensitive. That’s totally understandable.” Paul hesitates and then says, “But you still have that ring, I know you do.”

He suddenly sounds young and achingly vulnerable, and Colin’s heart bursts with the need to soothe his anxiety. He flips them over so that Paul is on his back in the water, and he’s kneeling over Paul on all fours. Water splashes everywhere and Paul yips like a frightened chihuahua, but a determined Colin holds him in place. “Now you listen to me sweetheart,” he says firmly, “I didn’t fall in love with you because Oswald is in love with Ed, you understand? I fell in love because you are warm and witty and wonderful, and you had me under your spell the minute you told me you ‘didn’t mind’ a few tickles. Jared and I were never meant to be more than friends. But this…” He trails a hand down Paul’s belly, just to make Paul squeak, which he does. “You and I are endgame, aren’t we?” He frowns and ruins the moment by saying, “That’s what the kids call it these days, right?”

Paul giggles, and Colin’s heart melts. “Kids?” Paul says indignantly with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not  _ that _ much younger than you!”

“Oh really? Then why do you like it so much when I do…THIS?” Colin proceeds to lean down and blow loud, bubbly, messy raspberries on Paul’s belly, drawing him up out of the water just enough to expose his belly and then dunking him back into the water to keep him warm, interspersing the whole thing with lots of rib-pinching tickles. Paul squeals and squirms and makes noises that set Colin’s blood on fire. “Tell me you understand,” he whispers into the curve of Paul’s neck between playful nips. “Tell me you love me too.”

Paul somehow laughs and moans at the same time and Colin  _ loves _ it, he could live on that sound. “I understand,” he gasps, squirming under Colin’s touch. “I love you too.”

They get water all over the bathroom. Neither of them minds one bit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy all -- Cupcake here with a quick note re: Ezra's pronouns in this one...
> 
> Ezra has indeed stated they are not affiliated with one gender, *however* they also have said they're all right with he/him/his pronouns, which is what Colin has used every time he talks about Ezra in interviews. Since this is Colin's perspective, and clearly Ezra has not told him to use different pronouns, we went with he/him for Ezra in this one. ^_^
> 
> (Also Ezra...if you ever read this...we don't really think you're THIS innocent IRL, don't worry) ;)

Colin is not used to being the little spoon. Not because he’s some kind of rugged manly-man who  _ has _ to be in control, but because he just loves to feel the person he loves cradled in his arms, loves to press his face into the back of their neck and smell their hair…all right, sue him, he’s a bit of a sap. Whatever, he’s Irish. Emotional comes with the territory.

But tonight he’s letting Paul spoon him instead…mainly because Colin’s belly is so swollen it definitely can’t take the pressure of having Paul squeezed up against him. And he might complain about that a little, except it feels so nice to be cuddled…to feel Paul’s slim arm wrapped lightly around his waist, long fingers gently stroking his overstuffed tummy…to feel warm breath caressing the back of his neck as his eyelids grow heavy. Oh, yes. This  _ is _ nice.

Tonight was their second feeding session and it was every bit as lovely as the first. Instead of donuts, tonight it was red velvet cake, rich and sweet and layered with gooey cream-cheese frosting. Colin swears he can still taste it, can even still taste Paul in his mouth as he licked swirls of frosting off his boyfriend’s fingers. It’s such a nice memory, and even just thinking of it has him floating. Paul just makes him feel  _ so good… _

His stomach chooses that moment to voice its displeasure at being so full, and Paul chuckles low in his ear. “Mmm. Did someone have a little too much dessert?” he says innocently, sweeping his fingers lightly up and down Colin’s belly.

Colin groans and nuzzles his face into the pillow, his cheeks a little hot. “Uhh. Maybe.”

“Are you okay?” Paul kisses his shoulder. “You need anything? More antacids, another belly rub…or do you need your boyfriend to shut up, maybe…”

Colin giggles helplessly at the memory of a boyfriend who  _ wouldn’t _ shut up. “Nah. I’m good.” He giggles again. “Um. Sorry. It’s not that funny, it’s just…” He lets out a real laugh, one that actually moves his belly, and then winces as his stomach rumbles unhappily again. “It’s just, ah. You asking that brought up some memories, is all.”

“Good memories, I hope?” Paul asks, his hand lightly coming to rest on Colin’s waist, considerately avoiding his grumbling stomach.

“Mmm. Yeah.” Colin chuckles a little, now fully awake. “Story time?”

Paul hums and nuzzles the back of his neck. “Sure, why not.”

“Right, so. I didn’t really want to tell anyone about my, hmm. Little kink, you know. Not after how Jared mucked it up. But if you’ve heard any rumors about me and a certain  _ Fantastic Beasts _ actor…well…”

Paul, to his credit, does not give Colin a hard time. Just gives him a little squeeze and says, “So, was Ezra any better than Jared?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure a randy teenager would’ve done better than Jared, so…” Colin rolls his eyes at the memory. “Anyway. It, uh. It didn’t really go that well. So we were finished with filming and we’d been sleeping together most of the press tour, and I figured, well, he’s always banging on about how experienced he is, this shouldn’t throw him off too much.”

Paul laughs, quietly and sympathetically. “Oh, no. You were mistaken, weren’t you.”

“Oh you. Have.  _ No. _ Idea…”

~

It starts when Ezra, three weeks into what Colin supposes could pass for a relationship, nuzzles into Colin’s neck while they’re making out and breathes into his ear, “Tell me what you like.”

It’s a fair question, but Colin has never not felt a little too vulnerable when he answers it. To stall he pulls back, loops an arm around Ezra’s waist to keep Ezra neatly situated on his lap, and says, “Why don’t you go first.”

Ezra proceeds to rattle off about a dozen-some odd things, most of which Colin hasn’t even heard of and some of which he very much doubts the hyper-energetic, flighty Ezra could pull off. (He’d pay money to see Ezra actually do kinbaku, for instance; the poor thing just doesn’t seem to have the patience.) But he just waits it out, until Ezra finishes, “So yeah, I’m mostly into like, just the kind of sex where you totally just vibe with a partner, you know? Tantra is a real blast if you do it right and like, I know this totally weirds people out but erotic hypnosis is  _ the bomb, _ like, I’ve had orgasms that were like half an hour with that shit. But I’m definitely not above, you know, the hardcore stuff. Wax and cutting and stuff—I kinda draw the line at drinking blood, because it’s super not safe. But whatever you’re into, you know, I can totally work with it.”

He’s so sweet, and so eager, and Colin almost laughs. “Okay, love,” he says instead. “So it sounds like you’re up for a bit of adventure. You like to try new things?”

Ezra nods eagerly. “Yeah, let’s talk about it,” he says excitedly, and Colin’s stomach flutters with hope. Maybe Ezra, sweet and bright-eyed Ezra who so painfully clearly wants to be thought of as sophisticated and experienced, will succeed where the others failed.

Colin tells Ezra what he wants, very carefully phrasing it in a way that he hopes doesn’t scream  _ eating disorder. _ He fails, apparently, because before he’s even finished Ezra’s eyes have taken on an aching, tender sort of look and says in a pained tone, “Oh, Colin…are you okay? Did someone…hurt you?”

Colin winces, which probably doesn’t help, and he quickly assures Ezra, “It’s not like that, sweetheart. It’s just…a fetish, I suppose you’d call it.”

“Binge-eating isn’t a fetish,” Ezra says, looking utterly troubled. “I don’t know if—well, I mean, if you like it of course I’ll—God, really? What could you possibly like about being— _ hurt _ like that?”

Shit. This is not going how he wanted it to. Colin bites his lip, disappointment an iron weight in his belly. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, no.” Ezra cups Colin’s face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs out over Colin’s cheeks. “Talk to me. You look sad now, I don’t like it.”

Colin hesitates and then confesses quietly, “I don’t really…tell a lot of people about this. I’ve told partners in the past and it didn’t really end well. One of them was a complete clown about it and just ate whipped cream off my knob like we were in a porno, the other…” His stomach tightens with the sense-memory of pain. “The other didn’t really…understand what I was after, and caused me a good bit of pain that I would just as soon not repeat.”

Ezra’s dark eyes go wide with dismay as he realizes what Colin is saying. “Oh God. I’m so sorry, that must have been so traumatic.” He leans his forehead against Colin’s. “Okay. We’ll do it. But I want a safeword established first and I  _ won’t _ tie you down.” His voice takes on a tender, soothing tone as he adds, “I’ll make you feel good. Nice and safe. I promise. And if I do or say anything that…that triggers bad memories for you, we’ll stop right away, all right?”

He strokes the back of Colin’s neck with steady, gentle fingers, and Colin sighs contentedly and closes his eyes and lets himself believe for just a minute that he’ll get what he needs this time.

~

“Okay. We’re going by the traffic lights, right?”

For the eleventh time, Colin patiently says, “Yes. Red for stop, yellow for ease up.”

He wishes Ezra would concede the no-bondage point. It would be so soothing to be tied up, to have his wrists bound or be wrapped up in ropes. The illusion of helplessness would feel so good…but no. Ezra said no bondage and Colin has to respect that. After all, Doms are allowed hard limits too.

Ezra smiles and says, “Oh, that’s good,” and Colin feels a little flush of arousal at the praise. Maybe this will go his way after all.

“Can you do something, love?” he asks, and Ezra looks at him eagerly. “Will you sit on my lap while we…”

“Oh, of course.” Ezra obligingly straddles Colin’s knees and reaches for the plate of pancakes. “Chocolate chip or plain first?”

“Mmm. Surprise me.” Colin bites his lip in anticipation as Ezra…oh lord. Takes out a fork, cuts off a teeny bit of pancake, and gently pokes it into his mouth. “Okay,” he says when he’s chewed and swallowed. “I think I can maybe take a little more than that.”

“Are you sure?” Ezra asks, his eyes wide, and Colin would laugh if it weren’t so exasperating. “I don’t want to choke you.”

Colin has to fight not to roll his eyes. “I’m not three years old, love. I won’t break if you put more than a half-inch piece in my mouth at a time, I promise.”

“Okay. If you’re sure…” Ezra cuts off a piece of pancake, dips it in honey and puts it neatly in Colin’s mouth. “Still good?” he asks sweetly.

“Still good,” Colin says, barely refraining from adding a  _ dammit _ at the end.

Colin remembers when he had his tonsils out when he was seven and had to be carefully monitored while eating to make sure he didn’t start bleeding. Small bite, long drink of water, check for blood in his throat, repeat. This reminds him painfully of that and it is the opposite of sexy. The first single pancake slowly disappears and by the end of it Colin is about ready to cry.

Ezra is a constant litany of _ that good, babe, not too full? _ and  _ do you need another drink, honey, or are you okay?  _ and  _ do you want more? _ and _ oooh, look at you, doing so good! _ He sounds like a terrible cross between a 18th-century courtier and a pee-wee soccer coach. “Oh, that was a big bite,” he says with a worried little frown after he gives Colin the latest bite of pancake. “Do you need a break, honey? Ooh—” He looks upset suddenly and squirms off Colin’s lap. “Am I squishing your belly? I’m so sorry!”

Before Colin can say anything Ezra has knelt on the couch beside him and is very gently patting his tummy. Again, this is something Colin would greatly enjoy, if it weren’t for the fact that Ezra is making honest to god cooing noises, like he’s talking to a baby. “You know I’m not pregnant, right?” he says, before he can stop the words from coming out.

Ezra looks up in surprise. “I’m not—okay. Here.” He carefully crawls back into Colin’s lap. “Ready for another?” Colin sighs pointedly and Ezra laughs. “Ooh, someone’s getting impatient,” he croons, reaching out and stroking Colin’s cheek. “All righty, babe. Here it comes…” He cuts off another piece of pancake and makes a little flourish with the fork as he says in an innocent sing-song voice, “Here comes the airplane, open wide…”

Colin can’t take it anymore. He stares at Ezra with bald exasperation and says, “What in God’s name are you doing?”

Ezra pouts. “I don’t know!” he whines, dropping his falsely bright, cheery expression and looking at Colin through anxious eyes. “I don’t know how to—God, I just don’t want to upset you, okay? You have to tell me,” he says suddenly. “What do you want me to do?”

Colin takes the fork and puts it aside. He takes both of Ezra’s hands in his, locks their eyes together, and says as reassuringly as he can, “You’re doing all right, but you don’t need to be so careful. Tease me a little, okay? I mean I—I like—” He blushes a little. “I like the praise. And the belly touching. Just don’t, ah…” He winces, this is going to make Ezra flip. “Please don’t use the word  _ fat.  _ Tease me about eating too much but just don’t use…that word.”

Ezra nods seriously, reaching out and smoothing Colin’s hair back from his eyes with an expression of tender concern. “Okay, babe. Let’s…” He reaches over and scoops up a forkful of pancake, pushes into his mouth still very gently and says, in perhaps the least sexy tone ever recorded, “I can’t wait to see you all…puffed up…you…you  _ dirty boy.” _

Colin nearly chokes on the pancake.  _ Please, God, spare me. _ He swallows and is about to say something when Ezra pokes the straw of the water glass into his mouth and once again tenderly smooths back his hair. “Doing good?” Ezra says softly, concerned. “Do you need me to slow down?”

_ If we go any slower, we’ll be in the prehistoric age, _ Colin thinks grumpily. “Green light,” he says, after forcing himself to not clench his teeth.

Ezra nods solemnly, resumes feeding him pancakes one toddler-sized bite at a time, and proceeds to turn into a human thesaurus.  _ Portly, rotund, roly-poly, meaty, buxom, _ and Colin’s personal favorite,  _ well-upholstered. _ Well, he thinks as he bites back the desire to laugh and cry at the same time, Ezra certainly took to heart his request to not use the word fat…though it’s a shame he didn’t listen when Colin requested he go faster, as the next seven bites take seven minutes, with plenty of sips of water in between.

Ezra looks at him through big, innocent eyes after bite #7. “Still good, precious?” he says sweetly. “Need a break?” He reaches down and pats Colin’s belly. “Look at this nice soft belly, all…” He stops, visibly groping for the right word. “All…short…and stout?” he finishes timidly, quoting  _ I’m A Little Teapot _ completely unironically.

Colin can’t take it any longer. “Oh f—red, red,” he blurts out, panting with the effort of not laughing.

He manages not to laugh, but disaster still ensues. Ezra lets out a squeak of distress and scrambles off Colin’s lap, his eyes wide and pained. “Oh my God babe I’m so sorry,” he gasps.

Colin has never seen a human being move this fast. In a burst of activity that would make the Roadrunner envious, Ezra has yanked off Colin’s jeans and replace them with sweatpants, wrapped him up in a soft plush blanket, shoved an antacid into his mouth, and has Colin’s head resting on a pillow in Ezra’s lap. “There, there,” he hums softly, stroking Colin’s side with a feather-light touch. “I’m so sorry. We’ll talk about it later, I need to know what I did to upset you, but right now you just rest, okay?”

Colin realizes, as he chokes down the delirious desire to laugh, that he’s actually hungry. He didn’t eat much this morning and now, after taking an entire afternoon to consume one and a half standard-size pancakes, well, he could eat. His stomach chooses that moment to growl and Ezra  _ whimpers, _ reaching for the Tums and poking one into Colin’s mouth like he’s feeding a puppy. “We’ll skip dinner tonight. I’m so sorry,” he says, nearly in tears.

_ Oh swell. _ Colin is just about to start crying himself. It’s okay, he thinks as Ezra soothingly pats his hip, making soft cooing noises again like he’s calming a nervous animal. Ezra sleeps light; Colin can get up after they go to bed tonight and grab some pizza or something. But right now he feels sad, and hungry, and oddly lonely for someone being excessively cuddled and babied.

He shifts onto his back, wrenches one arm out from under the blanket and puts Ezra’s hand where he wants it. “Touch me here, please?” he requests, giving Ezra his best puppy eyes, and Ezra melts and very carefully strokes his belly.

It takes a moment but the empty feeling eases up and Colin begins to relax. After all, this does feel good, and really, Ezra hasn’t done anything  _ wrong, _ he just…doesn’t really understand. But he can be taught, maybe. Colin closes his eyes and takes a few slow breaths as what remains of the tension slips from his muscles. “There,” Ezra says softly. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“Much better,” Colin says truthfully. The ambient noise of the room is comforting, and being wrapped in the blanket  _ almost _ feels like being tied up, and the feeling of Ezra’s hand on his belly is sweet even if the pressure isn’t quite what he’d like. Colin thinks maybe he could get used to this if they do it again.

And then Ezra breaks his heart with, “I’m so sorry, Colin. I swear I will  _ never _ hurt you like that again.”

And Colin knows it’s hopeless. Ezra won’t understand. But it doesn’t matter. Colin has resigned himself by now to the fact that no one is ever going to really understand.

~

When Colin finishes telling his story, Paul takes a moment before he says, one hand very gently stroking up and down Colin’s side, “So, I guess it would’ve been pretty useless, trying again with him? Like, from what you said there was no way…”

“Oh, definitely not.” Colin pauses and then admits quietly, “He did apologize, though, for comparing it to an eating disorder. He was pretty upset then, too, thinking he’d done more damage…so, ultimately, he and I weren’t really meant to be more than what we were either. He broke it off when I asked him to come back to L.A. with me.”

“He didn’t like the idea of staying with you, or staying in L.A.?”

“Well, he certainly had some opinions about California, but…the bigger issue, I think, is that he was just so young. He didn’t want to come settle down with me, help raise my kids, be Suburban Dad 2.0, you know? And, frankly—this stays between us, now—I don’t think I’d trust him with my kids anyway.”

Paul hums softly. “I’m sorry.” He laces one arm around Colin’s waist, again careful to not put too much pressure on the swell of his stomach. “So, you don’t think he’s…stable?”

“Oh, no, it’s not that. Don’t let the Iceland video fool you, Ezra’s not even a little bit violent or cruel, he’s just…” Colin sighs again. “He’s flighty. Selfish. He doesn’t really do commitment, except with his career. He loves the freedom of being able to jet off without having to worry about how it’ll affect whoever he’s leaving behind, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. He  _ loves _ kids, actually, but he’d make a terrible parent.”

“Mmm. I see.” Paul lets that sit for a moment before he says, “So, who was the third?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The third. You said you told three others. Jared and Ezra, and who else?”

Colin thinks of  _ her, _ and the response is nearly pavlovian. His entire body tenses, and he winces as pain shoots through his suddenly-taught belly. An involuntary gasp of distress leaves his mouth and immediately Paul traces careful, delicate circles across his stomach, making reassuring little humming sounds as he does so. “Sorry,” Colin whispers when the pain has eased and he thinks he can talk without crying. “I, uh. I moved wrong, I think.”

“Sh-h-h.” Paul kisses his neck, light and tender, his hand still cradling and stroking Colin’s belly as if it’s something irreplaceably precious. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk later. For now, how about you sleep off some of that cake and just let me hold you, okay?”

Colin nods, immensely grateful that Paul isn’t going to push (but of  _ course _ he isn’t) and tries to settle back down. It doesn’t take long for him to feel sleepy again, and it certainly helps that Paul knows just how to touch him in order to help him relax. Colin drifts off feeling safe and loved once more, not even able to bring himself to dread the conversation he knows he’s in for later.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all -- ALL of the TWs for this fic, pretty much, are in this chapter. Please, PLEASE mind the tags.
> 
> The non-con in this chapter isn't specifically sexual, but it IS a BDSM scene wherein consent is revoked and no safeword has been established. Colin's partner is extremely rough with him within the scene, fails to provide aftercare, and gaslights him afterward.
> 
> Quick disclaimer: we don't actually *know* Nicole Narin any more than we know IRL Colin, and we're in no way claiming this actually happened. this is RPF, as in real-person FICTION. Everything you see here is made-up for angsty fic purposes only.
> 
> Take care of yourselves lovelies, and happy angst-reading <3 <3

Feeling slightly guilty about telling unflattering stories about his two clueless exes, behind their backs, Colin makes sure to Zoom call Jared and Ezra to make sure they are doing okay.

He is pleased to see that both of them are in their elements, Jared on his meditation mat, Ezra outside with his goats.

Jared calls him ‘brother,’ Ezra calls him ‘dude.’ They have both very clearly moved on, as Colin has. And both of them clearly notice how happy Colin is.

“You’re glowing, brother,” Jared had observed knowingly, from behind his long hippie style brown hair. “Have you got back from a desert retreat, or what?”

Ezra, amusingly, used the exact same word to describe Colin. “Wow, dude -- you’re glowing! He’s glowing,” he’d informed the goat beside him, who simply started gnawing on Ezra’s hair which had grown out almost to his shoulders again. Then he looks right at Colin: “Are you pregnant?”

Both of them rightly guess he’s in love with someone, but they wildly miss the mark as to who he’s in love with.

Jared guesses it’s Zoe Kravitz, Ezra’s money is on Robert Pattinson. Colin doesn’t dissuade them.

Later, after he ends the calls, Colin sets about making a light supper of chopped veggies, onion dip and salmon-spread sandwiches, as opposed to kebabs or something equally rich again. He’s been eating like a bird all day, drinking lots of water so his previously bloated belly is back to the sort-of-flat that it always is, though he’s still got a comfortable layer of pudge around his waist from his _The Gentleman_ movie that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter how many crunches he does. Paul, however, adores it, so Colin owns he hasn’t been trying that hard to get rid of it.

At the thought of his sweet co-star turned soul mate, Colin smiles. Paul, dreamy, ever serious, non judgmental Paul, had taken Colin’s two rip-roaringly uncomfortable stories about two of the older man’s infamously glamorous exes incredibly well.

But…the third story…Colin isn’t sure how Paul will take that. Merely _hinting_ that he’d been in an abusive relationship where a partner used his kink to hurt him had been enough to scare Ezra off. But Paul isn’t Ezra. Or Jared. Paul won’t judge…right? Still…Colin is not looking forward to the questions the younger man will have after hearing the whole story. Even if they remain unspoken, the questions will always remain.

_How could you let yourself be at the mercy of someone like that? Why didn’t you specify that you needed her to stop? Why did you stay with her after she did that to you? And how could you allow her to take advantage of you again?_

The very same questions Colin has been asking himself for nineteen years. Colin shakes his head in wonderment. _Nineteen years_. He still can’t believe that an incident that happened nearly two decades ago could have such a visceral effect on him as it had last night. The mere remembrance of _her_ had shot him back in time, tied him back to the chair, weeping and sick with the drugs he was on at the time -- his throat raw, his stomach aching -- humiliated, betrayed and completely and utterly terrified…

The beep of the key card at the front door jolts Colin out of his reverie, and his heart lifts when he sees Paul walk in. Or, stagger in is more like it. Colin would think he was drunk if it was anyone else but Paul, who has stopped drinking when he moved in with Colin out of respect for the latter’s sobriety.

Something is off with Paul, Colin can see. The younger man leans his back against the door, slowly and carefully remove his mask. His face is pale and Colin can see a purple bruise blooming on his jaw.

 _Bloody sparkle-boy again_ , Colin thinks, gritting his teeth as he strides forward to catch Paul by the shoulders as the latter sways forward dangerously. Paul’s whole face lights up and he wrapped his arms around Colin’s neck.

“Hi, baby,” he says, his voice scratchy and worn out. “Did you hear? We finally wrapped up filming today.”

“Well, that’s great, love, but -- _whoa_!” Colin catches Paul, just as he faints against him.

“’M fine,” Paul mumbles against Colin’s neck. “It’s nothing, really, just work.”

“And what exactly did this ‘work’ entail?”

“Five straight hours in a full body straightjacket, getting fake-beat up, but sometimes accidentally for-real-beat-up by _the Batman_.” Paul deepens his voice at the last two words in imitation of Rob’s ‘Batman voice.’

“You aren’t _fine_ then, you wee dolt -- bleeding _hell_ ,” Colin scolds as he scoops Paul up into a bridal carry. “The next time I see Pattinson, or Reeves for that matter, I am going to give them both a piece of my mind. With my fists. Punch Pattinson for taking it too far -- (even Jared never physically hurt anyone on the Suicide Squad set) -- and punch Reeves for letting him.”

“My hero,” Paul drawls, smoothing Colin’s shaved head as the latter carries him down the hallway. “You do know that Rob wasn’t really method acting. He was trolling us all the entire time.”

Colin lets out an indignant squawk.

“And,” Paul adds, apparently delighted with the effect he is producing, “guess who started the rumour about the Rob/Zoe bang-fest on the hood of the Batmobile?”

“Bloody sparkle-boy,” Colin shakes his head in incredulity and a tiny amount of admiration of Pattinson’s brazen antics as he turns the corner into the bedroom. “I’ll have to get his autograph before punching him out.”

He sets Paul down gently on the bed. “Stay right there,” he says. “I’m about to make you feel real good.” Then he roots around in the Master Bathroom until he finds a tube of K-Y jelly. He strides back out with it. “Take your clothes off.”

Paul visibly balks. “Uhm, you know I love you, baby,” he says carefully. “And that you’re… _great_ at… _that_ , but I kinda gotta plead a headache tonight. Well, a whole body ache, really.”

Colin blinks. Then he snorts as he understands how this must all come across to Paul. “This?” he shook the tube of jelly, “is just for a body massage, you dirty-minded wee thing. And _only_ a massage tonight. I don’t just have one thing on my mind, love, whatever you might’ve heard about me.”

Paul looks pained at the mild reproach lodged in Colin’s teasing words. “I’m -- sorry,” he says, rubbing his temple tiredly. “I shouldn’t have automatically assumed that you wanted sex.”

Colin crosses the room in no time flat and tilts Paul’s face up to look at him. “Of course, you should’ve, sweetheart, I know how it must’ve looked. And I don’t want you to feel guilty about saying ‘no’ to me whenever you want, for whatever reason, no matter how small. Hey?”

Paul nods, his large green eyes welling with tears, then he wraps his arms around Colin’s waist and buries his face in the other man’s soft stomach.

Colin strokes Paul’s light brown, feathery hair for a moment, before pushing him back on the bed, undressing him down to his boxers and giving him the best body massage of his life.

About half an hour later, Colin surveys his handiwork. Paul is all but comatose, laying flat on the bed on his stomach like a contented starfish. Colin leans over Paul, and sees the long-lashed eyes are closed.

“You still with me, sweetheart?”

“I’m with you,” Paul murmurs sleepily, his eyes remaining closed. “Oh boy, am I with you.”

Colin presses a kiss down onto Paul’s temple, eliciting an adorable little coo from him. “Good, because it’s storytime again.”

Paul’s eyes pop open and he raises his head a little. “It is?”

Colin tries not to laugh over how excited the younger man gets at the prospect of a story. “Aye, but you have to remain still, little one.” Gently, he pushes Paul’s head back down. “Just rest. Can you do that? Good...”

Colin lowers himself down so that his chest is flush with Paul’s back. Paul grunts a little as Colin, who is significantly heavier than he, leans his full weight against him, pressing the younger man’s slimmer body deeper into the soft mattress. Now Colin’s mouth is positioned right at Paul’s ear. Perfect.

“Now, love, this isn’t going to be a funny, silly story like the others,” Colin begins, already feeling the first icy bite of panic in his heart. “In fact, it’s gonna be…pretty dark, to put it mildly.”

“This is…that third person you told, isn’t it?” Paul murmurs. “The one that you couldn’t tell me about last night.”

“Yes. That’s the one.” Colin presses a kiss behind Paul’s ear, because he wanted to, and to buy him time. “Oh, this is gonna be so much harder to tell than the others.” To calm himself he buries his nose and mouth into Paul’s shaggy hair, which smells of green apples (his shampoo) and campfire smoke (probably from the set). “You’re lovely, sweetheart, do you know that?”

“Hardly.” Paul’s sardonic tone is amused but also bitter. “I’m not hideous, but I’m no stunner, not like you. Not like… _them_.”

He doesn’t say their names, but Colin knows Paul means Jared and Ezra. Which, he isn’t exactly wrong, there. Not only are Jared and Ezra both physically stunning -- the kind of drop-dead beautiful that prompts double and triple takes when they walk into a room -- they each have glamorous careers and exhilarating lifestyles.

Paul is physically attractive but he is as everyman as they come, part of why he was chosen to play the role of Edward Nashton, the re-imagined gritty Jigsaw-like Riddler in The Batman, a character no one would ever guess was the elusive serial killer in the film. Paul lives in New York, not L.A. He had a band once but he was never a rock star like Jared is. Other than this last one, he mostly does indie films not huge Hollywood blockbusters like Ezra is constantly starring in.

“Well, you see, the thing about Jared and Ezra…” Colin watches Paul’s serene profile, but the younger man does not react, not even so much as an eyelash twitches. “…is that they both are peacocks. Beautiful, colourful, exciting. And they know it, too, and they make sure everyone else knows it. Which makes them come off as very annoying a lot of the time.”

“Yeah?” Paul asks in a tiny voice.

“Aye, well have you ever heard the sound a peacock makes? That’s sort of how Jared is like when he’s going on about method acting the Joker, or Ezra hamming it up in interviews, overshadowing everyone else.”

Paul gives a tiny smile at this, and it slices Colin’s heart open.

“But you, love,” Colin murmurs, stroking Paul’s hair, “you are a nightingale. Just an…ordinary little bird at first glance. Average, unassuming. So easy to overlook, to underestimate. But what you can do, those two silly great peacocks can only dream of -- sing sweeter than they, fly higher than they, because you are simply doing what you love to do, not caring a whit who sees you or what they think. But…

“…I _do_ see you, sweetheart. And try as I might, and I have tried, I still can’t look away.”

Paul remains quiet underneath Colin for a beat. “Wow, um…” he says in a watery voice. “I never thought you…thought of _me_ like that, you know? As someone…that special to you.”

Paul’s innocent words are like tiny nails in Colin’s heart. Of course Paul would be guarded around Colin. Of course he would be wary, given Colin’s track record in the romance department. Colin presses his mouth just behind Paul’s ear. Hot tears leak out of his eyes and get caught in Paul’s hair where they bead and glitter. “Do you believe me, though, love?”

Paul fidgets under Colin and Colin feels another pang of loss, he’s done it again -- why does he always have to get so emotional? “Here just -- let me turn over --” Paul says, and wincing, Colin raises himself up in a sort-of push up to allow Paul to roll over onto his back. He gasps as Paul reaches up and gently tugs his head down to his bare chest.

“Of course I believe you,” the younger man says, gently scrubbing at Colin’s scalp with soft but skilful fingers. “I _know_ you meant every word. Still doesn’t make it any the less embarrassing. A _nightingale_ , really?”

“Get used to the Cyrano-like wooing, love,” Colin says, tracing Paul’s ribcage just lightly enough to quicken the latter’s breath. “I’ll wax poetic about you at least twice a day.

“And speaking of waxing poetic, I believe I owe you a story, little one.”

Colin feels Paul’s long arms wrap around his shoulders, long legs wrap around his waist, feel delicate lips press a kiss on the top of his bristly head, and Colin’s heart aches from being so full of love. No matter the horrors of the past, Colin knows he is safe now, is loved now. She can’t hurt him anymore, so he refuses to allow her still to have this much power over him.

He takes a deep breath and begins:

~

“God, this is gonna be so hot, baby,” a sultry feminine voice breathes into Colin’s ear, as long swathes of luxurious dark hair swish over his shoulders, tickling him through the thin fabric of his too-snug button-up shirt as the voice’s lovely owner binds his hands behind his back with a silk scarf, as he sits in a dining chair.

It was Nicole who’d picked out this shirt for him, getting it a size smaller on purpose, because she thinks tight clothes look hot on him. Her beautiful face had lit up when she’d seen him in it and he didn’t have the heart to tell her it didn’t make him feel sexy at all. It makes him hate himself even more, because not only does seeing himself in the mirror wearing it remind him that he is a cheating, carousing, drug addicted douchebag, but that he is a _fat_ , cheating, carousing, drug addicted douchebag. Whose most shameful fantasy is to be force-fed until he is so full he can’t move.

That fantasy is, just now, about to become reality.

Colin had accidentally let it slip to Nicole about his feeding fetish on the way back to their hotel from a night of club-hopping. To his incredible surprise, she not only delightedly said she was into it, but that they should try it right away.

So they’d stopped for donuts on the way home, at a little fancy bakery -- and while Nicole was inside making the purchase, Colin had retrieved the tiny white pill he kept in his front jeans pocket and stared at it, lodged between his thumb and forefinger. It came in such an innocuous form, ecstasy. He really didn’t need to take it, the high from finally about to have his most secret kink indulged by a beautiful partner, who was so clearly into it, should be enough. But…it could always be better, couldn’t it? It could always be heightened.

Colin had quickly put the pill in his mouth and dry-swallowed it, just as Nicole hurried back to the car with the box of treats she was going to feed to him when they got back to the hotel.

Nicole didn’t need to know he’d taken the ecstasy, Colin rationalized It would just upset her, make her think she wasn’t enough for him, that he needed drugs to enhance his mood around her.

And he doesn’t like it when she gets upset. It is far better for them both when she’s happy.

She is _very_ happy now as she straddles his lap after binding his wrists behind him, and so Colin is euphoric. Alright, yes, the ecstasy is starting to work its poisonous magic on him, making him float in almost idiotic state of joy, but also --

Someone is finally touching him _softly_ , someone is kissing him _gently_ , someone is about to fill him up to bursting, then hold him and comfort him until he falls asleep. And who cares if that someone is Nicole? Who cares if she’s almost never like this -- so gentle, so understanding -- for very long? She is right _now_ , in this moment where it really counts, and that’s what matters.

She’s wearing a short white silk robe, that shows off her luminous dark skin, her long shapely legs and her curves that just won’t quit. And her small delicate hands are soft and one is caressing his jaw while the other one is holding a big delicious-looking donut. She brings it to his mouth and cradles the back of his recently shaved head as she feeds him.

“Mm, someone is a hungry boy, isn’t he?” she chuckles as she holds her icing-glazed fingers out for him to lap clean. “Don’t pout, you greedy thing, I’ve got another one for you…”

And she picks up another donut for him to eat. And another after that, slowly feeding him, teasing him about what a glutton he is, how his buttons are already about to pop…Colin wishes she would just be more gentle with her teasing. Why can’t she say how cute he is when he eats, how sexy it is that he likes her to do this to him? Why can’t she be playful and kind to him instead of constantly mocking, degrading? As it is, while her taunts are making him blush, making his insides flutter, they are also making his heart ache, reminding him of what a depraved loser he is.

But on the physical side of things, Colin is in heaven, as he relishes the texture and taste of the buttery-sweet donuts, the feeling of his belly gradually swelling, the knowledge that sweet treats he is being stuffed with is rapidly his waistline, stretching him out. It’s magical, this sensation. It is also the X making him feel everything far more intensely than he would normally, far more quickly.

It doesn’t take that many more donuts before Colin is more than uncomfortably full, he feels if he takes one more breath he will split his stomach lining. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts so much --

And he can’t even tell Nicole, because he can’t speak, his tongue feels like a huge sticky slug in his mouth.

When Nicole brings yet another huge donut to his lips, Colin shakes his head. Nicole miss-aims and the donut smears against Colin’s cheek. Nicole laughs and catches his head between her hands.

“Where you going, baby?” she purrs, trying to press the donut into his mouth which he is keeping closed. “You’re no where near finished, open up, c’mon …”

“I…probably shouldn’t…”

Nicole giggles and pokes a manicured fingernail through one of Colin’s gaping button holes, jabbing him roughly in his swollen stomach. He bites back a yelp at the pain as he tries and fails to suck in his tummy, which is now pressing urgently against his belt buckle which feels like a knife blade. He has never felt more unsafe in his life.

“Look at how _fat_ you are,” she teases and Colin flinches. That single syllable is like a slap on the face. But it’s just a silly first-grade word -- he shouldn’t be so sensitive -- he’s a twenty-five year old man, for fuck’s sake, not a thirteen year old girl. Part of him just wants to sink back into his floaty headspace, but there’s something sinister in the air now. Nicole’s smile that had looked girlishly mischievous a moment ago, looks cruel, fiendish even. Then --

“Wonder what the tabloids would pay for a picture of you like this.”

Icy fear shoots through Colin and his lips fall apart. Nicole takes this opportunity to seize his jaw, digging her long nails into his cheeks, forcing his mouth to open, stuffing the piece of donut into his mouth. He chews and swallows it -- not even thinking clearly enough to spit it out. He pays for this instantly as white hot pain lances through his belly. Colin groans, arching his back in an effort to ease his discomfort but it is useless.

“Ha, you fell for it!” Nicole exclaims mockingly, picking up another donut. “You didn’t really think I meant that gag about the tabloids? Baby, I would _never_. I was only joking when I said that. Here, have a bite, to make you feel better…”

“Nicole, I can’t…” Colin whines, trying to pull his head away, “…it hurts…”

“Oh-ho-ho, yes you _can_ ,” Nicole says, in a don’t-even-think-about-flaking-out-now tone. “And too bad if it hurts -- you’re the one who wanted to do this in the first place so don’t you dare wuss out on me now. Here, just take one more big bite…and I’ll untie you and give you a nice belly rub, okay? Would you like that, baby?”

She stokes his throbbing belly but the gentle touch doesn’t feel good…Colin’s stomach turns and bile rises up his throat.

“I’m gonna be sick…”

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen, _jeez,_ ” Nicole’s voice is growing sharp, impatient. “One more bite, that’s all I ask. It isn’t going to kill you.” She shoves the donut at him, and it squashes against his tightly compressed lips. “Open.” Nicole snaps, not amused now. “ _Open_ , or I’ll leave you tied up here all night, no belly rub, no nothing, how would you like that? Is that what I have to do to teach you a lesson?”

Colin can’t help it -- a sob escapes him at the awful threat. Humiliation ripples through him as he sees himself in his mind’s eye, trussed up, bloated, crying -- utterly revolting.

“Aww, is that a ‘no?’” Nicole mock-whines to mimic his whimpering. “That’s what I thought. Now take one more bite for your princess…that’s it, that’s a good baby -- here, I’ll help you …” she pries his mouth open again and shoves the piece of donut inside and covers his mouth with her hand until he swallows. And --

That is when Colin’s stomach revolts with a quick, cruel lurch and hot vomit shoots out of his mouth and he literally can’t stop it, not even if he wants to --

Finally, after what seems like forever, it is over. And as he gasps for breath, his ears ringing, his stomach and throat on fire, his head spinning, he realizes Nicole has leapt off his lap and is screaming at him. Despite his pain, Colin can’t help but feel some satisfaction that her face took the full force of his spew of vomit.

“ _God_! I try to do something nice for you and this is how you repay me!” she screeches, right in his face. “By fucking puking all over me! Why are you like this, you fucking drugged up loser? What, am I so awful that you have to be on drugs to be around me? And what the fuck are _you_ crying for? I’m the one who got a faceful of barf! Ugh,” she whines, looking down at herself. “I’m going to go have a shower.”

She turns to go and Colin panics as a terrible thought occurs to him that she will never come back for him, that he will be stuck here forever, that he will die like this. He screams. He thrashes in his chair. He cries for Nicole to cut his arms loose, his arms are still tied, he wants his arms back, he wants them back right now and he can’t speak and he can’t breathe and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts --

“Alright, shut up, shut up, stop fucking screaming! You’re scaring me!” Nicole cries as she roots around the cutlery drawer for the scissors. She finds them and runs back over and starts sawing franticly through the silk scarf. As soon as he is free Colin darts past Nicole for the bathroom.

“Wait, I told you I wanted a shower!” Nicole yells after him, outraged.

Colin slams the door behind him and locks it. A second later, Nicole gives the door such a thunderous pound that Colin nearly jumps out of his skin.

“ _Asshole_!”

Colin holds his breath, waiting. He finally breaths again when he hears the garbage can lid clang open. That means Nicole is occupied cleaning the mess outside and will leave him alone.

He looks up and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror…red-eyed, covered in sick, still wearing that ridiculous, stupid, too-small shirt --

He hooks his fingers through the gaping button-holes, rips it off of him and throws it from him, growling like some kind of beast. He catches a glimpse of his naked torso in the mirror and he’s never seen anything so ugly, so disgusting. He needs to get everything out of him -- everything she put into him, get it all out --

He gets on his knees in front of the toilet, sticks two fingers down his throat and bites down, _hard_ \--

His abused stomach responded in similar violence, rejecting the rest of its contents that hadn’t landed on Nicole’s face earlier. Colin keeps on retching, long after there’s nothing left to throw up and he doesn’t stop until the room tips sideways and the hard tile floor abruptly catches him.

Then he is forced to stop because he is knocked out cold.

Colin wakes up to a hot wet washcloth passing over his face and a soft hand stroking the back of his head. He moans in contentment only to recoil in horror when he feels the silky curtains of Nicole’s hair sweep over his bare shoulder.

“Hey, baby,” she murmurs in his ear, and Colin shivers. “I’m sorry for how I treated you last night…that was wrong of me.”

Timidly, Colin glances up at Nicole’s lovely, serene face. She’s never, never apologized to him before…perhaps she really does feel remorse for hurting him so badly. Then --

“I shouldn’t have indulged your eating disorder.”

Colin’s heart breaks. Or to put it more accurately the shards his heart is already in are smashed into splinters. “Eating disorder?”

“Yeah, it’s called feederism,” Nicole said airily, still tenderly wiping down Colin’s face and chest with the warm washcloth, “I watched a documentary on it last night after I cleaned up your mess. Feederism’s like -- well, it’s like the opposite of anorexia. It’s awful, baby. These poor people who have it get so fat they die from it. But it’s really hard to get them help because they _get off_ on eating too much and getting so fat they can’t move.

“That’s what you have, Colin. Feederism. But don’t worry, I’m gonna get you help, okay? The best psychiatrists…”

Colin can’t hear her anymore over the frantic rush of blood in his ears.

No wonder he is such a freak. No wonder he will always be alone.

~

“I didn’t find out feederism and binge eating disorder were two completely separate things until I was in Rehab two years later.” Colin says quietly, as he lays on Paul’s chest. “I told my therapist about it and she told my fetish for feeding had nothing to do with binge eating disorder. She said people with real binge eating disorder eat to bursting as a form of self-punishment, not because they like it, and certainly not because they are aroused by it. That it is an ignorant and cruel stereotype to conflate the two. So, as you can imagine, I felt like a such a fool, believing such a stupid lie for so long. I didn’t even think to research it for myself, I just believed everything she --”

Colin stops as he realizes that not only has Paul been silent this whole time, the latter’s grip on him is so tight it almost hurts. Then Paul takes a deep, shuddering, watery breath and Colin knows the younger man has been desperately trying not to cry this whole time.

“I’m sorry --” he gasps and whimpers, blinking quickly, before breaking down again.

“My sweet little one,” Colin raises himself up on his elbows to wipe Paul’s tears away. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“I wish I…” Paul’s eyes squeeze shut, seeming to remember something particularly horrible from the story, “…could’ve been there with you. Just to comfort you…”

“I’m glad you weren’t, sweetheart,” Colin murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss onto the younger man’s forehead. “For two reasons. First, I wouldn’t want you to know me back then. I was -- I was a _mess_ , to put it mildly.”

“I would’ve still loved you --” Paul protests, but Colin quiets him with a kiss.

“Second of all,” Colin says after he comes up for air, “It was nineteen years ago when I was with Nicole -- you would’ve been a literal feckin’ baby back then.”

“How young do you think I am?” Paul giggles through his tears. “I would’ve been eighteen!”

“Like I said,” Colin boops his nose against Paul’s. “Literal. Feckin’. Baby.”

“I still wish I could’ve saved you,” Paul says seriously.

“Ah, but you do save me, love,” Colin says, pulling Paul up to a sitting position. “You save me every moment of every day.

“Now let’s go shower, have dinner and then I’ll tell you another story. A happy one, this time.”

“Who’s it gonna be about?”

Colin tugs Paul to his feet to give him a quick chaste kiss on the mouth.

“You.”


End file.
